Losing Juliet: A gripping psychological drama with twists you won’t see coming

by June Taylor

  ‘I’m fine, Mum. I’m fine. I just wondered if you fancied meeting me at Maria’s? There’s something I need to tell you.’

  ***

  Maria’s was bustling, but luckily the table in the far corner was unoccupied. It was a little on the cramped side, and wedged in by the computer shelf, but it would give them a degree of privacy.

  Maria brought their drinks over.

  ‘What an asset your daughter is to this place,’ she said, as if Eloise wasn’t there. ‘I’ll be sorry to lose her when she goes. No doubt you will be too.’ Then Maria flatly refused to take any money for the drinks.

  ‘I’m not sure why she’s so friendly,’ Chrissy whispered when she had gone.

  ‘Because she likes you?’

  ‘She hardly knows me.’ Chrissy began stirring her coffee. ‘She’s very good to you though, sending you home with leftovers, giving you a pay rise. I suppose she does do a good trade in here,’ she added, looking around.

  Eloise had forgotten about the invention of the pay rise and squirmed at the reminder. It was difficult to keep up with all the lying she had been doing recently. But from now on, things would be different.

  ‘I’ve thought about what you said, Mum.’

  Chrissy put down her mug and leaned in, keeping her voice low. ‘I’ve said a lot recently, Eloise.’

  ‘Yes, I know that. But shouldn’t we just focus on the future now?’

  She seemed to relax and sat back in her chair.

  ‘Weren’t you pleased to see Juliet just a tiny bit?’

  Chrissy looked around before she answered. ‘I told you, we never fell out. But we can’t discuss this in here.’

  ‘Well, it’s just that Juliet said we could go and stay at her place in London. And in Rome. Wouldn’t that be great?’

  Chrissy’s eyes narrowed. ‘What did you say to her last night exactly?’ She jabbed her finger into the table. ‘You made us sound like a charity case, didn’t you?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Offering us free holidays. You played the sympathy card, Eloise, and don’t you deny it.’

  ‘I didn’t. She just asked about college and uni, that’s all.’ Eloise felt flattened by the sudden lashing, and it seemed unfair. ‘I didn’t play the sympathy card, Mum. You do that all by yourself.’

  She hadn’t meant it to come out like that. The more she tried to repair the damage the worse it became. People were looking over. Chrissy snatched her jacket off the back of her chair, took out four pound coins and slammed them onto the table. ‘Tell her we don’t need her charity either.’

  ‘Mum!’

  Eloise sensed it was best to let her go. She watched her step out onto the street and pull up the hood of her jacket. The drizzle didn’t seem to be clearing, people scurried about like ghosts, and Chrissy soon blurred into them. Eloise thought she saw Juliet’s face in the misty outlines, but it was only because she wanted her to be there. In the same way that she wanted her dad to be there and he never was.

  She sat for a while, playing with her phone, texting Anya in the hope that she might be able to meet her at the café, but Anya replied to say that she couldn’t. Now, even Anya was angry with her. Since Juliet had come on the scene, Eloise had more or less abandoned planning their trip. Countless missed calls and several irate text messages later, she had confessed she might be going to Italy instead of Inter-Railing. She knew it was ridiculous; why was she pinning all her hopes on Juliet, a woman she barely knew? But if Eloise could convince her mother to go, perhaps she could finally break out of the protective shell that Chrissy had built around them both for so long.

  And if Chrissy refused to go, well, maybe she’d just go alone.

  Scooping up the coins that Chrissy had left on the table, Eloise went to drop them in the ‘Tip Jar’ over by the till. Maria waved but she couldn’t bring herself to wave back. She stepped out into the drizzle and became a ghost herself.

  ***

  Chrissy had no idea about London. She hadn’t told her yet that she was going.

  College was over, the holidays had begun, Anya wasn’t really speaking to her, and all that was on offer were some extra shifts at the café. Even if Chrissy still flatly refused to come, Eloise felt she had nothing to lose by just going on her own.

  Juliet was ecstatic when she told her. ‘That’s fantastic!’ she squealed almost as insanely as Eloise on the other end of the phone. ‘Just tell Laura and she’ll arrange everything for you. And I’ll see you on Sunday then. Right, I must fly. Literally. My plane’s ready for boarding. I actually get to see Luca on this one.’

  ‘Luca?’

  ‘Yes, exactly. Who’s Luca? He’s my husband.’

  ‘Oh, right, yes.’

  ‘Ciao, bella. See you soon’

  ‘Ciao, Juliet. And thanks. Really, really, really thanks.’

  Eloise assumed that was the end of the call.

  ‘Eloise.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Don’t keep thanking me.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘You do know now what your mother did for me, don’t you?’

  She didn’t tell her about the burnt letters, but Eloise knew that if it had not been for Chrissy, Juliet would almost certainly have been raped.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So you see there’s absolutely no need to thank me.’

  ‘No, okay.’

  Eloise was still in bed, flicking through the pages of a travel magazine, wondering when and how to break the news to her mother. She hadn’t even packed yet, in case it aroused suspicion. The car was coming at two to take her to the station. She had tried to persuade Juliet that she could get herself there, not wishing to be alone in the car with Anton. He made her skin crawl, and the fact he had been in their flat, rooting through her things, bothered her immensely. But Juliet wouldn’t hear of it.

  Eloise pulled the suitcase out from under her bed. It had been on top of Chrissy’s wardrobe for years gathering a thick layer of dust. The last time they had used it was for Bruges after her dad died.

  Seven years’ worth of dust.

  ***

  Predictably, her mother was furious when she told her. But Eloise tried to style it out.

  ‘Juliet thinks the world of you, Mum, and she’s not even going to be there till Sunday in any case. We can hang out. You and me. In London.’ She flung open the suitcase and Chrissy looked on, too stunned and angry to respond. ‘So I’m going to take this for you, okay?’ Eloise blustered on. ‘Because we’re bound to be going somewhere posh, knowing Juliet. What’s that place where all the celebs go? The Ivy. I bet we go there.’ She carefully placed her mother’s dress, still in its purple tissue paper, on top of the things she had already packed.

  Chrissy picked up the nearest thing she could find, Eloise’s washbag, and fired it into the case. It landed like a bomb on top of the dress, exposing the black lacy neckline.

  ‘Bloody hell, Mum! I wish you’d just get a life.’

  Chrissy turned her back. She was clearly upset.

  ‘Oh god, I’m sorry, Mum. I just want you to come, that’s all.’

  Eloise wanted to hug her but she couldn’t bring herself to. Her mother’s voice sounded broken when she did eventually speak.

  ‘The only reason I’m still here, Eloise, is because of you. You and your dad were, are, my whole life.’

  ‘So start living it then. Where are you going? Mum! The car’s coming for us at two,’ she shouted after her.

  Five minutes later Eloise heard the door slam, and when she looked out she saw her mother going off for a run.

  CHAPTER 18

  London: 2007

  Eloise did a final check of each room to make sure that she hadn’t forgotten anything. There was still no sign of Chrissy.

  ‘I know what I’m doing,’ she said, picking up her dad’s photo, putting it straight back down again. She remembered very clearly the day he had given them that picture. It was one of those memories forever glued onto her heart. He had known fo
r a while that he was ill – months, two to three at most, remaining – and this was his way of breaking the news. ‘I don’t want you choosing a really shit photo of me when I’m gone,’ he had said. Typical of her dad to make a joke out of something as morbid as this. ‘The frame’s a bit crap, mind,’ he added. ‘Probably fall apart in a few years. Maybe buy a new one when you’re a bit older.’ She remembered the way he had looked at her, too, as if he was trying to tell her something.

  Swinging her bag over her shoulder she sent the frame crashing to the floor. The glass shattered. She picked it up, careful not to let any fall out. It was just at the moment when a car horn sounded outside. Her suitcase was holding the door open so she could keep an eye out for Anton. She didn’t want him coming up here when she was in the flat on her own.

  There was no time to do much with the frame now, apart from getting rid of the broken glass. Tipping it out onto the table the photograph came loose from the cardboard mount and she spotted a note tucked in between, folded in half. She could smell her dad’s aftershave, cinamonny, peppery. Her hands trembled as she removed the piece of paper, running her fingers over the letters of her name. She felt a familiar pain in her chest, a reminder of how raw her grief had once been. But seeing the words ‘My darling Cheese Eloise’ made her laugh out loud.

  A tap on her shoulder gave her a start, disrupting the memory, and she quickly pushed the note into her jeans pocket. Praying it would be Chrissy when she turned around, she screamed when it wasn’t.

  ‘Anton! God, you gave me a heart attack.’

  She watched the fingers of his leather gloves wrap round the handles of her suitcase, and made sure he was first out of the door so she could keep him within her sights.

  ***

  Beyond the sprawl of Manchester, the view began to open up into green countryside. Pylons planted in fields were like giant wire scarecrows. The power lines that linked them bounced up and down in one continuous motion, broken only by roads or a row of houses.

  The note was resting on her lap; she hadn’t read it yet, having felt much too uncomfortable during the car journey to do so. It may have been her imagination but she was sure Anton was looking at her; his eyes darting away every time she glanced up. Maybe Eloise could ask Juliet if she could send another driver in future. Then she cringed. Another driver? Who do I think I am?

  Now that she was safely on the train, she was finally able to dismiss Anton from her thoughts, and she began to read the note. Seeing her dad’s handwriting instantly made her cry.

  ‘Take care of your mother, Eloise. See that she’s never

  alone. And no matter what you hear, always try

  and forgive her. Don’t be afraid to ask questions.

  But remember, we both love you.

  Always at your side,

  Dad X’

  She stared at the words.

  He must have known what had happened.

  Suddenly Eloise’s stomach lurched with guilt. She really had no idea how her mother felt; how that dreadful summer had affected her. And now she had abandoned her for the one person who brought back all those painful memories.

  She had to get off this train.

  ‘I might have known she’d have put us in First Class. I’ve been up and down, up and down, looking for you.’

  ‘Mum!’

  Eloise quickly folded the note back up and stuffed it into her pocket, blinking away her tears, hoping they wouldn’t be noticed. She stood up to help Chrissy put her bag onto the luggage rack.

  ‘Did Anton come to get you?’

  ‘Who’s Anton? I’ve no idea what the driver’s name was. I called a taxi.’

  ‘I’m so glad you’ve come,’ said Eloise, squeezing her arm as they sat down together.

  ‘Well, let’s get one thing clear,’ Chrissy replied in a stern voice. ‘I came for you. Not because I want to see Juliet.’

  ‘I’m still glad.’

  Eloise watched her mother’s eyes as they tried to keep up with the blurring landscape. It made her consider all the things she now knew about her.

  ‘Take care of your mother, Eloise … And no matter what you hear, always try and forgive her.’

  Of course she could forgive her. What she had found out changed nothing.

  ‘I think what you did for Juliet was very brave, Mum,’ she suddenly felt the need to say.

  Chrissy continued to stare out of the window. She just wished that her mother could forget what had happened, not live this life of torment and fear when, clearly, that man had it coming to him. Even if he was blinded in one eye as a result of what Chrissy did to him, as far as Eloise was concerned he had got off lightly. Was her mother really afraid that he might one day come for her? Had she lied about that? If so, maybe Juliet could help convince her they were safe. And maybe Eloise also needed to hear that, for her own peace of mind.

  ***

  Juliet’s London flat turned out to be a penthouse on the South Bank, directly opposite the dome of St Paul’s. Chrissy had barely slipped off her shoes when Eloise began pulling her across the floor of the open-plan living area and out onto the terrace. She had already seen pictures but wanted the real thing to be a complete surprise for her mother.

  The river traffic slid along at a leisurely pace. Faint cries from hungry gulls could be heard in the distance, criss-crossing over boats and bridges, swooping low every now and then. Standing on the curved balcony looking out across the city, the view stretched from Canary Wharf down to Westminster. To think that Juliet woke up to this skyline every morning, eating her croissants and jam, flicking through the fashion pages of her glossy magazine, Eloise did wonder whether the decadence of it all would simply annoy her mother.

  ‘She always did go over the top with everything,’ Chrissy remarked, shaking her head in every direction. Even at the sky, as if Juliet owned that as well.

  ‘I dunno,’ said Eloise, taking a ridiculous number of photos, ‘I reckon I could get used to this.’

  ‘Well, don’t,’ said Chrissy, playfully shaking her. ‘And don’t you dare point that thing at me.’

  ‘As if, Mum. Come on, let me show you the rest.’

  Juliet had left an itinerary out for them in Chrissy’s room. Eloise skimmed over it before offering it to her, but Chrissy was distracted by a picture hanging on the wall above the bed. A colour photograph, enlarged, in a Shabby-chic frame. The only picture on display in the whole apartment, come to think of it.

  ‘Oh wow!’ said Eloise, going over. She soon realized why Chrissy was so mesmerized by it. ‘Is that you and Juliet?’

  Eloise had only ever seen her mother in a single photograph and that was on her wedding day. Here she was, a smiling happy teenager on the beach, one arm casually slung around her best friend’s neck, with a bottle of beer in each hand. They were wearing bikinis and probably dancing. A fire flickered behind them, bathing their youthful bodies in an orangey-red glow.

  ‘So … is that in France then? Is that the beach you were telling me about?’

  Chrissy attempted to unhook the picture off the wall, gently at first, but when it wouldn’t release she tugged so hard that the hook came out with it, leaving a gaping hole where it had been. It was because she was so eager to show it to her, Eloise thought; hence she was shocked when the picture was slammed face down in a drawer and shut away, as though it had no right to be on display in the first place.

  Then Chrissy left the room without a word.

  A few moments later she wheeled in the suitcase, making deep grooves in the carpet, and Eloise rushed at her with the itinerary, relieved that they were not heading straight back up to Manchester.

  ‘Would you like to see what Juliet has planned for us, Mum?’

  Chrissy hoisted the suitcase onto the bed. ‘We can just do our own thing, Eloise.’

  ***

  They took a late afternoon stroll along the river. Having dispensed with the itinerary they were free to wander as they pleased, and seeing Juliet on Sunday was now th
eir only deadline. Eloise didn’t mind one way or the other; she was glad to be away from home – something they rarely got to do together.

  Chrissy seemed much more at ease down in the hustle and bustle of the South Bank, instead of watching it from above. They weaved through a constant flow of people out strolling by the river, enjoying the sunshine. They would stop every now and then to watch a street performer. A break-dancer was spinning on his head to the sound of a beat machine. Further along, a girl was attempting to rollerblade through the crowd, causing chaos.

  That was when she spotted Anton.

  He couldn’t possibly have driven down here faster than the train. Could he? Maybe he was even on the train?

  Eloise pulled on Chrissy’s arm, dragging her into Gabriel’s Wharf.

  She relaxed again when she saw him walk straight past. But why was he still following them, and was Juliet aware of it?

  After browsing the shops, and then a drink in one of the quieter courtyard cafés, Eloise felt a safe amount of time had elapsed and they continued on. They found a spot on a wall overlooking the river. The waves from a City Cruiser slapped into those from another boat, making the water look choppy. On the far side, a vessel was dragging containers along on a large platform: a reminder that the Thames did far more than just ferry tourists up and down it. A police boat suddenly whizzed by. Chrissy kept a close eye until it disappeared towards Greenwich.

  Eloise hitched herself up onto the wall, sitting with her back to the river, still keeping a lookout for Anton. But they seemed to have lost him. Chrissy jumped up next to her, playfully grabbing her shoulder, saying, ‘Whooh, don’t fall in, Eloise!’

  Eloise only wished she could be like this more often. She watched her mother bounce her feet off the wall observing the people going by, as casual and free as the teenage girl in the photo. Without a care.

  ‘I wouldn’t fancy your chances running through that lot, would you, Mum?’ said Eloise, giving her a nudge.

  It became obvious that she wasn’t without a care, even in that brief moment, because she said: ‘I always used to look for your dad’s face in a crowd.’